Life Goes Full Circle
by Elven Star Angel
Summary: Life goes full circle.  Goes full circle and then returns to kick you in the arse.


Summary: "Life goes full circle. Goes full circle and then returns to kick you in the arse."

It's funny how life plays around with you. It's even funnier when you realise you don't have a life. Well that's what they think anyway... that we don't have a soul, or that we don't have a heart.

I don't know. Is it true? Well I feel alive. I look at my hands after every contractor I meet and think, yes I am alive. I probably do have a soul. But is that a fact? There's been no evidence to justify it. Maybe, maybe no one has a soul. Maybe we contractors aren't so soul-less after all. Maybe the normal humans don't have souls either. I smile when that thought comes to my mind. It's possible, isn't it? Remember that young girl's father? Or that perfumer's wife? Or even Misaki's childhood friend? Maybe they had their reasons, but did they have a soul?

Do I have a soul? Did Pai have a soul? Or does Yin? She doesn't seem a doll, I swear she has something in there. Something sleeping but there. That Chiaki did too. The doll, she tried to save me.

Whatever we see isn't the reality, that much is certain. And what is the reality? Well, who can say? The stars, maybe. And yet as I look at them, I know that they can't. They're fabricated too. Just like us... us contractors.

When did I become a contractor anyway? I was just a kid.. not normal, no, no chance of that. But I was a kid, helping his sister in her work.

And when had she become a contractor? When had she learned to kill?

It seems like just yesterday when we sat under the sky and watched the stars. And she made a wish when the stars fell. And then they all fell. What was happening? What is happening? Suddenly she isn't here, and I, and I have learned to use that power. I have learned to kill. But no, I knew then too. I was the Black Reaper after all. The most dreaded player in the game. Yet, who was I? I was just a kid helping his sister, wasn't I?

I still am in a way. I am continuing what she left. I have what she left too. Maybe I have become her. And all these cycles I searched for her, here to there to the gate and back, I searched. And I didn't find her. Was there something wrong with me, I used to wonder. There wasn't. There was never anything wrong with me. I was just a kid helping his sister. His dead sister.

In retrospect, I had, I suppose, accepted it. That she wouldn't be coming back. Down there, in the heart of hearts that they say our kind doesn't have, I'd already understood. And that was the price of my contract. I'd paid it; and I knew I had.

Then why did I still search? Why do I think of these things now? When I look up at the sky? Was it for closure? Or was it just to keep myself occupied? What can I say? I hadn't come to terms with it. She was my sister after all. And she was the price of my contract. I sigh. It seems so ridiculous. So juvenile. It's as if whoever decides saw her disappear in South America and said- "Oh look! There goes our number one weapon! Let's snatch her number one weapon and transfer it to the junior! Capital idea! Bingo! And look- he's even paid the contract already! This is efficiency. Good! Very good!" I shake my head- how can I be so callous now? She was my sister and I'm talking of her like how others talk of the rising prices of vegetables or about the latest TV serial. Am I that heartless? And here we are. Back to where we started. I can't help but laugh. It's a good thing I learned to ignore people long back- at least I'm not affected by those who think I'm a nut. Oh the irony. If they only knew what kind of nut I really was. I laugh again. No one would want to know... no one would want to let them know... just like how I got back to the question I began with. Life goes full circle. Goes full circle and comes back to kick you in the arse.

I sounded just like November 11 there. That was his kind of humour. Such a pity he's gone too. Is it odd I say "pity"? I don't feel much of it. Or remorse. I only feel a tad curious. Was he the only November? Or were there 10 other Novembers before him? And what happened to them? Did they go out of commission too? Or was he the only one? If he was- then why was he November 11? What's so special about that particular date? His birthday? I snort. As if birthdays matter. Not to us. Not to them. They only matter in papers and documents. And they aren't real anyway. So why that name? I don't know.

There's so much I don't know. So much I will never know. What's happened to me? What's happened to that inquisitive boy? Is this what happens when you grow old? Do you stop caring? Do you stop asking questions? Or is it just me? Have I become so immune to life? To death? That everything in between just ceases to exist? Or mean anything?

Maybe that's a good thing. It aids in forgetting. But what's the point of forgetting if you don't even hurt? That's what Kirihara told me- she told me she tries to forget because something hurt too much to remember. What was she talking about? When had she even said that? And how do I remember? I don't know. But more importantly- do I care? I guess not. Does that make me a bad person?

Well they definitely think so. So would most normal people. Isn't that what you get for being a contractor? But Kirihara won't think so. No, Misaki thinks I'm a good guy. I think, if Yin could think. She'd think so too. Well, I think she's nice. And the detective? What would he think? I don't know too many people but- does it even matter if they think I'm nice? If they know I am a contractor- would they still think so?

That brings a lot into perspective. My entire life is defined not by who I am but by what I am. A contractor. A contractor who has paid the ultimate price.

I get up and leave. The stars just aren't for me. Not these stars anyway. The real ones were. They were for me and my sister. And even for Nick and his sister. But he hadn't paid my price. Even though we were so alike. What had come of him in the end? I saw him launch, in the rocket, with a small girl. And him as a boy. But that was inside the Gate. What had really happened? Had he just... had he just disappeared too? And why am I thinking of him? I'm not even looking at the stars anymore. I'll leave that to him.

Life is funny. You start with a question and get another as an answer. You think of your sister and remember a similar guy who was so like you and yet unlike you. That's how life is- fickle. And funny.


End file.
